Chapter 21 – Crossing Threads

Sylven sat cross-legged in the corner of the communal cabinet, his back pressed against the wood. Despite the warmth of the room and the quiet hum of activity, he couldn’t help but feel a foreboding chill pricking at his spine. The stories the captive Shy had shared haunted him—particularly Jerrik’s escape attempt and tragic disappearance.

He began tracing the lines of a crude map of the workshop some of the older Shy had drawn from memory and furtive exploration. He noted the shapes of and distances between the cabinet, the doorway, and the existing holes in the wall, now blocked, with his fingertips, lost in thought about possible escape routes.

“Uncovering anything we missed?” Sela teased as she sat down beside him, setting a bundle of braided silk netting on the floor.

“You never know what can come to mind if you stare at something long enough,” Sylven joked.

“Well, you’ve certainly got the determination for it,” Sela smiled. “But it’ll take more than grit to pull this off.”

She nodded to the other side of the cabinet, where several Shy were quietly tending to various projects—repairing tools, sewing garments, or working with the tiny mechanical pieces scavenged from the workshop.

“Hey, Alvon!” Sela called, beckoning to a tall, wiry Shy who was fitting a blade into a notch cut into a stick. Alvon looked up and sauntered over to Sela and Sylven.

“Need something, Sela?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sylven’s been digging into all these escape ideas,” Sela said with a playful smirk. “Figured you might have some... perspective to offer.”

Alvon raised an eyebrow at Sylven. “You mean the kind that comes from seeing someone else try and fail?”

Sylven straightened up, meeting Alvon’s gaze. “I heard about Jerrik,” he said quietly. “And what happened to him.”

Alvon’s eyes clouded with strong emotions—grief and regret—but they were gone in an instant. He crouched beside them, his voice cracking as he whispered, “He was brave. Too brave for his own good, maybe. But he had thought his plan through.”

“So, how did things go wrong that day?” Sylven asked.

Alvon hesitated, glancing at Sela, who gave him a reassuring nod.

“Griff—our old handler—was ruthless,” Alvon said. “He had it out for Jerrik from the start, probably because Jerrik wouldn’t just roll over and obey.”

“Sounds familiar,” Sylven muttered.

“Yeah, well, we’re lucky they got Wyatt to replace Griff,” Alvon said. “He wasn’t just strict. He enjoyed being cruel to us. The other humans eventually put a stop to that, though not soon enough.”

“What about the guard?” Sylven asked. “The one who disappeared?”

Alvon leaned back, crossing his arms. “Garrett. That was his name. He wasn’t exactly kind, but he wasn’t cruel either. And he didn’t like what Griff was doing to us, especially to Jerrik.”

“How did you get to know his name?” Sylven asked.

“We just pieced it together from talking to Wyatt,” Sela explained. “He’s also been trying to figure out what happened to Garrett, who was his father.”

“That’s significant.” Sylven frowned. “So... you think Garrett helped Jerrik?”

“Or at least didn’t try to stop him, maybe felt sorry for him,” Alvon said. “But something went wrong. There was a fight. We heard it through the door—Griff and Garrett shouting at each other, things crashing. Then... silence.”

“And neither of them came back?”

“No,” Alvon said. “Jerrik was gone. Garrett was gone. And Griff... well, the humans must have realized he was more trouble than he was worth. After the fight he came back in here and trashed our cabinet and the workshop. The other humans rushed over to stop him and made him leave that very night.”

Sylven’s curiosity deepened. The pieces didn’t fit cleanly, leaving him both intrigued and uneasy. But they hinted at there being more to what went on between the humans and the missing Shy.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of knocking then the cabinet doors creaking open. Wyatt’s face peeked in, his features lit by the dim glow of the workshop lanterns.

“Everyone good?” he asked tentatively in Shyspeak. The gathered Shy below his looming form exchanged glances before a few nodded.

Wyatt crouched low, his head nearly level with Sylven and Sela. He offered a hesitant smile.

“I brought this,” he said, placing a small bundle of cloth on the floor. Inside were cotton balls and bits of soft fabric. Eryl, who had been watching from a distance, approached with a cautious smile.

“Thank you, Wyatt,” she said in human speech.

Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck. “For the little ones. For the cold,” he stammered in Shyspeak and then timidly waved goodbye, before closing the cabinet doors and securing the Shy inside with a big iron padlock.

Sela let out her breath as she watched him walk out, stepping over the blocked threshold.

“Just always remind yourself that no matter how nice he appears,” she whispered to Sylven. “He’s still a good little human who locks us up every night.”

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That evening, Alvon pulled Sylven aside, motioning for him to follow. “There’s something you should see,” he said. They made their way to the far corner of the cabinet, where a small group of Shy were gathered around a cache of cut up bits of paper, covered in notes and drawings.

“These were Jerrik’s,” Alvon explained, spreading the scraps out on a makeshift table crafted from the cover of an old book. Sylven’s eyes scanned the rough sketches and scrawlings. One doodle showed the workshop’s interior, with a series of arrows pointing out the blind spots along different routes toward the door seam.

“He planned to get us all out,” Alvon said. “But after that day, they plugged every hole, replaced every lock, even installed that smooth metal barrier at the threshold of the door.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Sylven rummaged through the notes, his mind racing. “Anything about Garrett?” he asked.

“His role is still a mystery,” Alvon admitted. “But these scribblings... they suggest they were communicating. Some of these words… they’re in human.”

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The cabinet was unusually quiet that evening. Most of the Shy were already resting, their soft murmurs and the occasional sound of swaying hammocks the only noises that broke the stillness.

Sylven sat by a small vent near the base of the wall, staring out at the faint glow of a lantern through the slats. Sela approached, her footsteps light but deliberate.

“You look like you’re a thousand thoughts away,” she said, settling beside him. Sylven’s shoulders stiffened slightly as she moved closer.

“Maybe I am…” he replied.

She waited, patiently studying him. It was a tactic of hers that he had started to notice—letting the silence coax out words that might otherwise have been left unsaid.

Finally, Sylven sighed. “There’s something I haven’t told you. Something... important.”

Sela tilted her head, her expression curious but gentle. “I figured. You’ve been holding something back ever since you got here.”

He frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just... complicated.”

“Complicated is kind of the norm now,” Sela smiled wryly.

Sylven chuckled despite himself. “Fair point.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “You know I was in the middle of trying to fulfill my Daring Rite?”

Sela nodded. “Yeah. You were trying to prove yourself.”

“Not just to be recognized as a Sunbrave. But I also wanted to impress a friend,” Sylven clarified, his voice quiet. “Menna. She’s Middleshy, but… a close friend of mine. She’s... brilliant. Always one step ahead. I wanted to show her I could be just as capable. That I could achieve something she’d have to respect.”

Sela leaned forward, her expression softening. “Go on.”

Sylven hesitated, then began to recount his story. He told her about his plan to bring back an egg from the kobold hive for the rite and show it off at the Concord Crossing.

“When I was scoping out the Cradle Caverns. I came across this kobold who was acting strangely,” he recounted. “She had taken out an egg from the nest and was hiding it from the others. She seemed... desperate to get rid of it.”

Sela’s brow furrowed. “Why would she do that?”

“I had no idea,” Sylven shrugged. “I thought maybe there was something wrong with the egg? But I couldn’t communicate with her, and she kept walking away and ignoring me. So I… hooked the tip of its tail with my Shardstring… then cast a bond cantrip… to try to figure out what she was doing.”

“I was being impulsive,” Sylven admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “But the spell did more than I expected. We didn’t just understand each other… I could sense her thoughts.”

Sela’s eyes widened. “You and a kobold…”

“Her name is Vikka,” Sylven said. “She’s... not exactly thrilled about being bonded to a Shy. But we’ve been stuck with each other ever since. It was my idea to guide her to the caldera’s edge… where the other kobolds would never find her egg. After that... everything went wrong.”

“And that’s how you ended up here?” Sela asked, piecing it together.

Sylven nodded. “We were captured together. The humans didn’t seem to know what to make of us at first. Then they separated us when we got here. I don’t even know exactly where she is now, but she’s close... through the bond, I can feel her. She’s also working on an escape.”

Sela was silent for a moment, then tentatively spoke up. “It’s strange to think of kobolds and Shy working together, even accidentally. But I guess you’ve seen them more closely than any of us.”

“They’re... not what I expected,” Sylven said. “Vikka’s fierce, stubborn, but pretty smart, and she doesn’t give up easily.”

Sela smiled. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Sylven shook his head. “Anyway, I think this bond can help us. I’ve already been coordinating with Vikka. If we can get this tunnel going, it’ll be key to getting everyone out safely.”

Sela was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she finally spoke, the mischief was back in her voice. “That’s... a lot. And here I thought you were just another wannabe Sunbrave trying to make up for a botched rite.”

Sylven chuckled weakly. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

“More like full of trouble,” Sela teased, nudging his shoulder. “But... I get it now. Why you’re so determined. You’re not just fighting for yourself.”

“I can’t let them down,” Sylven said firmly. “And I can’t let them fight alone.” Sela’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the usual teasing glint in her expression was replaced by something more resolute.

“We’re all in this together, remember?” she insisted. Sylven felt a lump rise in his throat, but he nodded, grateful for her support.

“What about your pika, Uiska?” Sela asked, breaking the silence. “If he’s on the other side of this base, can he help us?”

Sylven hesitated. The bond with Uiska hummed faintly in his mind, a reminder of the pika’s constant presence.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” he admitted. “He’s smart enough to help, but... I don’t know how close he can get to us without the humans noticing. He’s always watched when they bring him out.”

“Could he dig from his side?” Alvon asked.

“Maybe,” Sylven said slowly. “I’ll have to check with him about it. If he can make a distraction to keep the humans from noticing us, that could also be useful.”

Sela nodded, though her expression remained skeptical. “It’s worth a try. But for now, we start here.”

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The next day, Sylven crouched at the base of the cabinet, running his fingers along the wooden floorboards beneath. The Shy around him had gone quiet, their postures tense. Sela paced of to the side, her foot tapping on the floor as she studied the area.

“If the kobolds are taking care of digging through the dirt,” Sela began, her voice low, “then we can focus entirely on making a hole in the cabinet, and keeping it hidden until we’re ready.”

Sylven nodded. “It has to be somewhere the humans won’t notice when they check on us.”

“What about the far corner of the pantry?” Mara suggested. “It’s always been cluttered with stuff, and we can use some of the boxes to cover up the opening.”

“Good idea,” Sylven agreed. “But we’ll need to be careful about how we work through the wood. If it’s too obvious, they’ll figure it out.”

“That’s if we can even get through,” Sela said, poking the wood with a nail. “This base is solid. Not impossible, but it’ll take time.”

Alvon crossed his arms. “Better that than rushing and getting caught.”

Sylven picked through the crude tools they had gathered—a jumbled collection of nails, blades, and rocks. They had seen plenty of other uses, but now they would be repurposed for something far more important.

Later that evening, once the humans had left for the night, the Shy gathered in a corner of the pantry. The base of the cabinet here was the most worn, its wooden planks slightly warped. Sylven knelt by the corner, running a hand over the cracks and splinters in the aged wood.

Alvon handed him an old nail file, its edges rusty but still sharp enough for scraping. “Jerrik left me this,” he offered. "Take the first shift. I’ll keep watch."

Sylven nodded and began to work, scraping the file against the wood. The first few scrapes were tentative, testing the material. The wood was tough but not unyielding, and Sylven settled into a rhythm, chipping away at the base.

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As the Shy worked in shifts throughout the night, they weren't the only ones active. The worker ants displayed a flurry of activity, their movements frantic.

Veyran, their sole Deepshy captive, was the first to sense the change in their behavior as he kept watch. “Look,” he whispered, pointing them out to Sylven.

Sylven blinked groggily, sitting up from his napping spot. “What do you mean?”

“The ants,” Veyran calmly announced, walking up to the gap where the insects often entered. “They're agitated.”

Sylven crawled over to look. The ants were scurrying around in tighter patterns. They clustered near their usual entrance but were moving in and out in more of a frenzy than usual.

“They can sense the digging and scraping,” the Deepshy explained. “It could be disturbing their nest.”

“Will that mess with our plans?” Mara asked.

“Hopefully not,” Sylven frowned. “But… this could help cover for us. The humans may pay more attention to the ants than to what we’re doing.”

Mara nodded. “Then let’s keep working. We can’t afford to waste this opportunity.”

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The rest of the night, Sylven lay awake in his hammock, the faint hum of the bond with Vikka filling his mind.

He sent a single thought: Keep digging. We’re getting ready.

Her response was immediate: We’re getting there.

With the kobolds’ tunnel beginning to take shape, Sylven reached out through his other bond with Uiska, sending the pika a clear image of their plans and progress. He envisioned the tunnel stretching from Vikka toward their location. The response from the pika was immediate—a burst of eagerness and understanding. Sylven sent back a wave of caution, overlaying it with the sense of waiting, of holding back until the time was right.

You’ll know when, Sylven thought. Just be ready.

Uiska’s agreement came as a pulse of pure willful enthusiasm, and Sylven allowed himself a small smile. The threads of their escape were coming together, and they were all getting closer to reclaiming their freedom.